Beaumont Hammel
by Zea900
Summary: Britan meets an ally who whill be fighting with him in an upcoming battle: Newfoundland. Little do they know, it will end in a big disaster. Non-romance, and OC oneshot.


**Okay, guys, so it's Summer and I'm going to pick up the pace on my writing again. So, I decided to try something different: Hetalia. Consider this oneshot a little "practice run" if you will. Tell me what you think and if it gets a good response, I'll write and actual story for Hetalia! Enjoy!**

**XxXxX**

_On July 1st 1916, in Beaumont Hammel, France, there was a tradegy that not many know about: The Battle of Beaumont Hammel. On this day, an entire regiment was destroyed within half an hour because of a miscommunication. Of the 800 plus men that charged the German's third line of defense, only 63 made it to roll call. This was the valiant effort of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, the small army of a former Republic under Britan's rule. Now a province of Canada since 1949, many Newfoundlanders still mourn the great loss of that time, while they still celebrate the birth of their country Canada._

**XxXxX**

It was a fairly wet, cold, muddy day at my house. Of course, nearly every day was. I had been in my favourite armchair reading a book, relaxing before I had to go to France to fight in the war a few days afterwards. I was almost done when there was a knock on my door. Reluctantly, I got up and answered it.

"Excuse me, Britan, but do you have a moment?"

"Yes, I wasn't doing anything important. What is it?" I replied. Suddenly, I heard a noise from across the street.

"Dammit, you Brits sure can move! Jumpin's, b'y(1) I almost lost ya!" A young man exclaimed as he bolted across the road and lugged up to my porch.

"Er...this is Newfoundland. His Regiment is going to be aiding you in the upcoming battle of Beaumont Hammel." The man who had come knocking said.

I looked over to the young lad and looked him up and down. He was fairly tall and robust, his body built rugged from a lot of hard work, his brown shaggy hair hung down over his lively blue eyes, which I believed nothing could damper. His mouth was twisted in some sort of friendly, cocky grin. He certainly seemed like a character.

"How do you do, Newfoundland, I'm Britan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Well, b'y, aside from the rain, I'm doin' pretty well! Ya gotta nice place 'ere, I must say. Kinda reminds me of home, right?(2)"

"Eh...sure?" I said, quite confused by his accent. It was a mix of Irish, Scottish, British, and God knows what. Plus his poor grammar and ability to announciate did not make it easier to understand the bloke.

"Right, anyways, I brought Newfoundland here so that maybe you two could discuss some battle plans for July first." The first man said.

"Oh, right, excellent idea. Come on in." I said as I stepped out of the doorway to allow the two men in.

"Alright, b'ys, where do we need to go fer this meetin' t'ing?" Newfoundland asked. My God, he couldn't even pronounce 'for' correctly. What am I getting myself into?

"Here, it's over this way, follow me." I ordered them both and led them to a room down a long hallway. I opened the door for them and then walked in the room myself.

"Hoo, buddy, this is some fancy room! Back 'ome we'd be in me shed right now!" The Newfoundlander exclaimed. He was louder than America, if that was even possible. But I must say, he was much, much nicer.

"Thank you, Newfoundland. I put a lot of work into this room. Now, before we get started, would any of you like any tea?" I offered. They both said no, so I proceeded to take out a map of France and spread it out on the big table. I placed little flags over what I think would be our general positions on the map. "Alright, so, I think we would be about right here, and the enemy would be around here. Now, I'm pretty sure that they have about three or four lines of defense." I pointed out using the flags.

"Mmm'kay. So, I s'pose I 'ave to take out a line, right?" Newfoundland asked leaning over the table.

"Correct. So, I'm guessing that the first two lines would be the strongest, France and I will take care of those, Newfoundland, you take care of the third. It shouldn't be too much of a problem for your Regiment, right?"

"No way! I gots the roughest and toughest b'ys on the island. We won't have no trouble takin' down those sausage-lovin' idiots." He declared proudly.

"Good, I really hope you can break their defenses so we can take them down."

"Oh, don't you worry, Britan, we got ya covered, right?" He flashed his cocky grin at me.

"Thank you very much, Newfoundland. I really appreciate the help." I couldn't help but smile myself. He certainly was a character.

"Hey, Britan, you wanna come to my house for a kitchen party(3) I'm 'avin in a couple nights? I'd really love it if ya showed."

"A kitchen party...?" I asked, totally confused. Did I hear him correctly?

"Yes, b'y, a kitchen party!" Okay, maybe I had heard him correctly.

"What is a 'kitchen party'?" I couldn't help but wonder.

"It is what it is, b'y." He said simply and gave me a little wink. "You'll see when ya comes over, for now let's look into this plan a bit more, right?"

"Sounds good." I replied. But my mind sort of wandered away from the battle plan. It is what it is? Does that mean that a kitchen party is literally a party in your kitchen? Of all places you could have a party in your house, why a kitchen? I shook the thought from my mind and focused on the battle plans, I suppose I would find out for myself when I got there.

The meeting ended with a satisfactory result, of which I was certainly surprised. I usually never managed to get anything settled with France or America. As Newfoundland went out the door, he exclaimed how excited he was to see me at his party and I spoke that I was excited as well; which I was. I watched him as he dissapeared into the rainy night.

**XxXxX**

The next morning, France had entered my home whilst I was getting ready to leave.

"Allo, Britan, are you 'ome?" He said in that accent I absolutley loathed.

"Yes, frog, what do you want?" I asked, not wanting to put up with his idiocity for very long.

"I 'eard you 'ad a meeting about zee battle zat will take place at Beaumont Hammel, but I was not zere. Who was with you?" He asked.

"A bloke named Newfoundland. He's going to be fighting with us on July first." I replied, and I couldn't help but smile when I thought about his humourous personality.

"Oh? Well, he must be a very 'umourous peson to make you smile so early in the morning." France teased me. Ugh, I HATE it when he did that!

"For your information, yes, he is quite humourous, much more than you think you are, frog. Actually, the reason why I'm not at your throat this morning is because I am getting ready to go to his place today."

"Thank God, maybe if you go away for a while, it might get a little bit less crowded around 'ere and some of us might be able to breathe..." He scoffed, crossing his arms. I really felt like just giving a good clip in the nose, but I just controlled myself and kept my ground.

"Yes, maybe I will finally be able to be rid of the horrible stench of cheese wafting off your clothes for a while. That would be quite nice." I retorted. My mind cheered for joy at the shocked and offended look on his face.

"Well, I 'ope you drown on zat little, worthless island." He spat as he made his supposed 'dramatic exit'. Once the door slammed behind him, I sighed and slumped down in the nearest chair. Yes, it would be quite nice to get away from here for a day or two. I needed a break. After a few minutes, I got back up and continued packing, very excited now about my trip.

**XxXxX**

"Hey lookie 'ere! Britan ya actually came!" Newfoundland exclaimed as I unboarded from the ship that had docked in St. John's(4) harbour.

"Of course. I always hold true to my promises." I grinned and Newfoundland greeted me with a friendly hug.

"Yes, yes, of course! So, how are ya, me ol' cock(5)?"

"E-excuse me?" Did he just call me a cock?

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry! I forgot yer not used to me talkin' yet! 'ere lemme rephase that, how are ya me buddy?"

"Ah, I see. I'm quite well. Yourself?" I don't ever think I would get used to his way of speech. It was...interesting to say the least.

"Not bad, b'y, not bad. I just had a big ol' feed of Jiggs Dinner(6), so I couldn't feel better. Alright, how 'bout we gets to my place, huh? Come on we goes for a little jant(7) there, whaddaya say?"

"A jant...?" I really appreciate his kindness, but, I wish he would talk normally so that I could actually understand three words he was saying.

"A walk, b'y, a walk! Come on, it ain't far!" He said as he took he sleeve of my trench coat and lead me through the crowded harbour. We walked down the main street(8) of St. John's and he pointed out various buildings to me. I am serious when I say that all the buildings look the same. They were usually extremely rectangular, two stories and painted bright colors. Most of them were fairly close together. I could barely tell the difference between a tailor's and a resteraunt, it was certainly different. The people were friendly, though, waving and saying hello as we passed by, it was an extremely friendly welcome. A lot of nations could learn a thing or two from this man.

"Hey, Britan, I think you'll like this part of town..." Newfoundland said as he pointed to our right. I looked over and almost rejoiced. There was pub among pub among pub just lining the street. It looked just like home.

"You don't mind if I want to stay here forever, do you?" I joked.

"Not at all, me son, not at all!" He chuckled loudly. I must say, his company was extremely nice, I felt like he was a friend whom I haven't seen in a long time. It was nice to see how he incorperated his culture from part of mine.

"Alright, 'ere we arrive at my house!" He announced as we came up to a somewhat large blue house with white trimming. It was shaped just like the others, but it had a nice yard and a nice quaint shed in the back that was the same color of the house. A black metal fence surrounded the house and kept in the maple trees growing in the front yard.

"My, my, it certainly is beautiful." I said as I looked up at it, sheilding my eyes from the afternoon sun.

"Thanks, b'y! I put me poor ol' heart and soul into buildin' 'er." He said proudly.

"You built this yourself?" My thick brows went up in surprise.

"Yep! I had the 'elp of a couple of me buddies, but that was it." The Newfoundlander spoke as he opened the front gate for me and let me walk ahead of him before he entered the yard himself. "Ya also got a perfect view of the 'arbour! It's some pretty sight, I gotta tell ya that." He added as he did the same with the front door of the house. I walked in and noticed I came right into the kitchen. There was practically no porch, and as I looked around I saw a small table with chairs and a pot-belly stove against the wall. From here, I could see into what I could guess was the living room.

"Well, ya like 'er or wha?" Newfoundland asked as he walked past me into the kitchen. "Come on b'y, she isn't gonna eat ya alive or nuttin'! I gotta show ya yer room!" He then proceeded to lead me through the house, showing me around. We then went up a small steep staircase to the second floor and showed me my room. It was pretty small, but it would do.

"Right, I'll let ya to unpackin' and all that shit and I'll get started on supper. I'll give ya a 'oller when it's ready." He smiled brightly then went downstairs to carry on with his work. I looked around the quaint room. I put my clothes into the armoire that was there and put my bag under the double bed. I looked out the window and gasped at the sight. I could see out the harbour with a perfect view of the sheer cliffsides that formed the harbour. Hundreds of seagulls circled above and sawm around in the salty water. It was certainly a sight to behold. This island certainly had a mysterious beauty about it, and something told me I would be coming back sometime.

"Oi, Britan, supper's ready!" Newfoundland called from downstairs. I tore my eyes from the magnificent view and carefully made my way down the steep stairs into the kitchen. Immediatley, I smelled fish.

"So, what's on the menu?" I asked, sitting down.

"Fish n' brews, buddy(9)! Yer gonna love it!" He exclaimed excitedly as he placed a place in front of me. "Bon appetite! Ah, who am I kiddin'...stuff yer face me son!" He added. I couldn't help but chuckle at his personality as I stabbed some food onto my fork and brought it to my lips.

His food tastes horrible(10). I kid you not. I have no idea what was in that fish and brews stuff, but it was probably the saltiest food I have eaten in my life. I ate it anyways to be polite, plus I was starving from the long trip. I suppose he saw me make a face when I first tasted it because he laughed and said something that I couldn't hear because my mind was yelling, _oh dear God this is wretched, oh dear God I'm going to die... _over and over again. When I had finally finished, I helped him clean up, we sat and talked in his living room for a few hours. He is such a comical character and made me laugh so hard I totally forgot about the horrible meal I had eaten. We then realized it was getting late and we both retired for the night.

**XxXxX**

I woke up from a wonderful night's sleep to an actual non-fishy smell. I got dressed and plodded downstairs where I found Newfoundland already making breakfast.

"G'marnin'(11) Britan, 'ave a nice nap?" Newfoundland greeted me with a cheery smile.

"Yes, it was wonderful, thank you." I smiled back then sniffed the air. "That smells excellent, what are you cooking?"

"Toutans(12)! I think you'll like these, b'y. They're right ready to go, sit down and whip out the molasses, buddy!" He said as he came over with a plate full of toutans. They sort of looked a bit like soft scones. He took a couple onto his plate and smothered them in molasses. I did the same, except with less molasses. I must say, they tasted excellent. I helped him clean up again and he said we'd go for another 'jant' around St. John's to kill some time before the kitchen party started. The tour was almost the same as yesterday, but as I looked around, I noticed many little fairies flittling about. I asked Newfoundland about them.

"Ah, those fairies are native to this place. They don't like us, though, 'cause we built an entire city on their 'ome. They like to play tricks on us and cause us trouble as their way of revenge. Ya don't want to piss 'em off. They'll turn on ya, buddy, I should know." Was the only thing he said about them. I was about to ask further but I saw one little rasal push and elderly woman into a puddle on the sidewalk. I knew then it was best to keep quiet about it. We arrived at his place after a few more hours, just before the guests started coming.

**XxXxX**

He wasn't lying when he said a kitchen party is what it is. The guests piled into the small kitchen and I swear I almost went deaf from how loud they were. He introduced me to them and they greeted me with "how's ya gettin' on" and "how's she cuttin'"(13), which I guessed were standard greetings around here. Newfoundland then announced that I had to be 'screeched in'. He then ran down to the basement and when he came back up, he had with him a flask and a cod fish. He told me to drink what was in the flask and kiss the fish.

"Are you serious? I have to kiss a fish..?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, it's either this or you eat moose shit(14)." Was all he replied with.

I drank back to alcohol, which he called screech(15) and I swear, it was the strongest thing I've ever drank in my life. I shook my head from the taste and when I brought it back up, I came face-to-face with a cod fish. They cheered my on to kiss it, and I unfortuneatley did. That's when the music started up. I saw instruments like an accordian, a fiddle and a few others of which I had never seen before, which Newfoundland called "a bouron(16)", "an ugly stick(17)" and "spoons(18)". Then, everybody started dancing a lively jig and I couldn't help but join. I really didn't understand how so many people could dance in the tiny kitchen, but I put that in the back of my mind when a pretty girl came over and started dancing with me.

**XxXxX**

It was finally the day that the battle of Beaumont Hammel would happen, the sun was shining bright and it was very warm. I had arrived at the base with France when I heard a familiar voie call out to me.

"Britan! How's she cuttin', my son?"

"Like a knife, me ol' cock!" I replied as I hugged Newfoundland while France just stood there looking as confused as ever.

"What...?" The confused Frenchman mumbled.

"Well, _mon ami..."_ Newfoundland said in a horrible French accent, "when Britan 'ere came to my place the other day, I taugh 'im a bitta Newfinese, he caught on right fast, too! Some smart he is!"

"Well, if you two can stop joking around, we can get back to zee WAR zat we are fighting 'ere?" France spat, looking extremely left out.

"Of course, sir, France, we shall fight every so valiantly!" Newfoundland said, actually sounding proper for once. He then gave me a wink out of the corner of his eye.

After all the plans were discussed over again for sure measure, about an hour later, France and I rushed out to the battlefield to eliminate the Germans. We did a pretty fine job taking out the first two lines of defense, if I do say so myself. We quickly ran back and that's when Newfoundland decided it was time to head in. I hadn't noticed until him and his Regiment were halfway across the battlefield. What? I didn't give him instructions to move!

"Newfoundland, get back here!" I yelled, but it was too late. Newfoundland had heard me and called his soldiers to retreat back, but they had gone too far in and were already spotted by the Germans. When they turned around, the enemy spotted the shiny fabric that were on the backs of the Regiment's uniforms and easily took their aim. I watched in horror as they got slaughtered one by one. I heard Newfoundland cry out and pain and I looked over to him just in time to see him hit the ground. I knew then, it was my time to step in. I called on France, and we did our best to fend off the enemy. I realized that this took a little more than half an hour. I ran back, searching for Newfoundland among injured soldiers and wounded bodies, there was no way I was going to leave my new friend in the dirt. Finally, I found his brown mop and rushed over to him. He laid face-down in the mud and I could see the blood seeping through his uniform from two shot wounds in his back. I gently rolled him over and took him into my lap.

"Newfoundland! Nefoundland!" I yelled at him, "are you alright? Answer me, dammit!"

I hear him moan in pain and saw him open his bright blue eyes, still as lively as ever. He flashed his signature grin at me and spoke weakly, "sorry, I didn't listen to ya, Britan, b'y...we was right ready to go and couldn't wait no longer..."

"Yes, well, I'll focus on yelling at you about it later, for now, we need to get you to the infirmary." I said, voice shaking. I slung his almost limp body over my back and jogged as gently as I could to our base, entering the tent marked with a red cross.

"Please help him!" I yelled at whoever was there and I layed him down on the nearest bed. Some doctors and nurses rushed over to him while others pushed me out of the tent. I sat down on a nearby crate, and that was when France came over, his face looking grim.

"Zee Regiment was slaughtered..." he said soloemly, "of zee eight 'undred men that rushed in only sixty three made it to roll-call..." his words trailed off. No, no, this couldn't be happening. I probably just lost one of my closest friends. Someone who actually understood me...someone who would have been there no matter what. I thought I had lost my best friend.

With that though, I put my face in my hands, and for the first time after the Revolutionary War...I cried.

**XxXxX**

After that, I never saw Newfoundland again. I was told he lived through the injury, and was hit hard during the Great Depression. I was also informed that he went to live with Canada a few years after World War II, I just hadn't had the time to visit him. I still remember the taste of his terrible cooking and the cod fish on my lips. He was probably the nicest person I had ever known and he sure knew how to throw a wicked party. Hopefully he'll remember his time with me as I remember my time with him.

**XxXxX**

**So, what did you think? Tell me in a review, please! Also, as you may have noticed, I placed numbers in brackets through out the story. Think of it as a little glossary of Newfounland culture, which I am going to write here.**

**(1) B'y - A Newfoundland verbal tic. Short for boy, pretty much.**

**(2) - Right? - Newfoundland's equivalent to Canada's "Eh?"**

**(3) Kitchen Party - It is what it is. A traditional Newfoundland party held in a person's kitchen. There a lot of singing, music, dancing and drunkness. An awesome time.**

**(4) St. John's - The capital city of Newfoundland. Also the oldest city in North America.**

**(5) Me o'l cock! - "My old friend"**

**(6) Jiggs Dinner - Sunday dinner usually composed of cabbage, turnips, carrots, peas pudding, and turkey/chicken. With gravy, yuuuuuuum!**

**(7) Jant - Walk**

**(8) Main street - This is Water Street in Downtown St. John's today. It's the oldest street in North America.**

**(9) Fish n' Brews - A Newfoundland dish of potatoes and salt fish with a liqueur-based sauce.**

**(10) His food tastes horrible - It's true. Newfoundland food is probably worse than British food. We overload EVERYTHING with salt. Seriously, salt fish, salt pork, salt beef. Yep, we have no sense of taste whatsoever.**

**(11) G'Marnin' - "Good morning"**

**(12) Toutans - Probably the only taditional Newfoundland food that tastes halfway decent. It's pretty much fried dough and tastes delicious with molasses or peanut butter.**

**(13) "How's ya gettin' on?" "How's she cuttin'?" - "How are you?"**

**(14) Eat moose shit - I am dead serious when I say this: to become and honourary Newfoundlander, you either need to be screeched in or eat moose poop. Yeah, weird traditions, I know.**

**(15) Screech - A VERY strong Newfoundland alcohol.**

**(16) Bouron - A traditional drum held in one hand and use a two-sided stick to play it. You can also use your hand to play as well.**

**(17) Ugly Stick - A broomstick nailed to an old boot and decorated with beer caps. You beat the boot part of it against the floor and the beer caps jingle. Kinda like a tambourine, I guess?**

**(18) Spoons - Yet another traditional "instrument". Basically it's two spoons put together so they face away from each other and you hit them against you knee and your hand so they make a metallic "clack clack clack" noise. You can buy these at tourist shops in Newfoundland.**


End file.
